


All the ways they say

by Shift7



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gabriel POV, Gen, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shift7/pseuds/Shift7
Summary: "I hate you." They hiss at him before they descend back to Hell with a flourish of fire and stench of sulfur. The meeting the two of them just concluded had not gone well.





	All the ways they say

"_I hate you._" They hiss at him before they descend back to Hell with a flourish of fire and stench of sulfur. The meeting the two of them just concluded had not gone well.

His shoulders sag and he reflects on the situation that he, one of Heaven's highest-ranked Archangels, has found himself in. Unfavorable only begins to describe this paper-thin truce they've chosen to work within--had to work within--given the circumstances.

Their very presence is irksome. Every meeting they have instills a deep festering feeling of doubt within him he has never once felt in his entire existence. He detests it with as much passion as his Angelic form can muster.

They are a reminder of the powers that still exist in Hell. They are a reminder that ultimate victory has not yet been achieved. They are a reminder of Heaven’s current _ and past _ failures. _ His _current and past failures.

He does not want to entertain this idea of equal terms with a Demon. The two of them are not equal in his mind. What he really wants to do is eradicate them where they stand. (As he is sure they want to do to him--they told him so _ multiple _times.) But there’s no word from either of their superiors and they both have to keep their domains in check. So they are left here, scheduling times to meet face to face, discuss work, and mediate a cease-fire neither of them wants.

It's clear to him this whole experience will ultimately be nothing but taxing. Like oil and water, they cannot, will not, mix.

He prays this arrangement will fall apart soon.

-

"I hate you!" They snarl as they wrench him down by his scarf after he is directly condescending. 

He hadn't meant to be, truly. He simply knew his opinions on the matter they were discussing was right and theirs was wrong; is it not his duty to spread accurate and truthful information?

The grip they have on his scarf is uncompromising, he cannot raise himself back up if he wanted too. He is stuck at their level. He attempts to reiterate his point again as if maybe they hadn’t understood him the first time. He feels them slowly pulling it tighter in response, their face darkening. Their strength is surprising given the size of their form. He finds it is impressive despite himself. 

He knows they don't like his height advantage. He knows they feel inferior because of it. He would never admit to using his height to annoy them, but from time to time he does. It's fun to see them get riled up. Bickering about trivial things instead of stressing about important ones is a routine they've fallen into recently. He may have taken it too far in this moment, however. He can feel them starting to crush his body’s windpipe.

Even so, he finds he is much more interested in how tight they might pull than anything they were talking about before. He idly considered goading them on further. It's not like he _ has _to breathe.

-

"I hate you." They grumble offhandedly as they knit their brows together and stare down at the work laid out before them both. Their respective sides have been incredibly busy in the past few months and he would never admit it but he had been slacking on his paperwork. 

He figured a few missing approval forms here and there would never hurt anyone, especially if it was for the greater good of his sanity. It's not like anyone would bother him about them anyway--his rank made his actions unquestionable. He honestly didn't think they'd notice. 

But they had. 

They had noticed immediately. 

They had noticed immensely.

They reprimand him again under their breath as they begin to reorganize and recategorize his paperwork against their own. They are completely methodical in ways he never expected. Demons were supposed to be sporadic and sloppy, right? Yet here he was getting berated for the most minuscule errors. He feels like a fledgling again. 

They lean back and pinch their nose, vexed. They tell him he should probably clear his schedule for the rest of the day. This meeting is going to take longer than either of them expected if they expect to get anything productive done after wading through his negligent mess. 

He rolls his eyes and is about to respond but it is in this moment that he realizes how worn down they look. It is easy to miss with how tenacious they normally are. But once he sees it, he can’t unsee it. He notices the fatigue in every feature of their face. He notices how much more unkempt their clothing is than usual. He notices how truly _ tired _their form is. He wonders if they’ve ever had a day off in the great expanse of eternity. 

He decides to make an effort to do his paperwork properly next time.

-

"I --hate-- you--" They buzz out between gasping laughs as he misses an incredibly obvious social cue. 

He doesn't understand what he did wrong. He knows they will not tell him. What he does understand is that they are mocking him directly to his face. He makes a mental note to look into his actions later but he gets distracted by the sounds they are making. They buzz and hiccup and snort in ways no other being he has ever known does. It is _ so _ugly. 

But...

It is rare to see them with any expression other than bored annoyance or seething anger. He has grown to understand and read through the deeper meaning of those expressions, but this is entirely new.

He looks at them thoughtfully as their face contorts then relaxes before it scrunches up again in ways that he thinks are meant to convey enjoyment. He is not used to being a source of enjoyment in others. 

Reverence? Sure. Awe? Absolutely. But never enjoyment. 

Their meetings had increased in frequency recently and he can’t find that he is upset about it. He wonders if maybe they _actually_ enjoy his company, just a little. He finds that he likes that idea, he likes it more than he expected. He likes it so much he allows himself the hope that it is true.

Maybe, he thinks looking at their face again, through their obvious ugliness, they are just a little bit beautiful too.

-

"I… hate you..." They breathe out through the dark, _almost_ like a prayer, as he slowly runs his hands over their bare skin. He is leaning over them and they are vibrating. He feels the reverberations thrumming through him, igniting something in his core that he knows he should not think about.

He instead thinks about how smooth they make their skin on their corporeal form despite the perpetual decay it undergoes in Hell upon their return. He thinks about how their body offers no warmth and how they drain it out of him with every instance of skin to skin contact they exchange and how he doesn’t care. He thinks about how they smell of must and earth and rot and other things that never see the light of day and how his associations with such scents have changed. He thinks about how _blessed_ he feels when they allow him to lay his hands on them like this. 

He thinks it is a good thing. 

He thinks it is a bad thing. 

He thinks he is thinking too hard. 

He moves to pull away but they reach out and vice-like grab his wrists, holding him in place. He gasps and they lean up and connect their open mouth to his. He stops thinking altogether.

-

They lounge casually together, work completed for the day. Much of the terse businesslike demeanor between the two of them has dissipated over time. Now, they use each other’s company as a reprieve, a time to unwind as neither is allowed that particular luxury elsewhere.

The sun is setting and the light is hitting their face in such a way that he thinks he can see it glowing. He reaches out and pulls them towards him wanting to bask in that imagined glow more closely himself.

They huff as they fall against him. He rests his head on theirs. In general, they aren’t one for extended physical contact and usually bite back at him with their disapproval at casual touching, but they don’t say anything this time. They settle back into him, shifting slightly for comfort. They reach up and comb one of their hands through his hair, dragging their nails rough along his scalp in a way he has learned is incredibly affectionate for them. 

It spreads warmth within him. It makes him feel and question so many things he never had to before. Never wanted to before. It creates a conflict that is burning him up inside. And he knows it is their fault.

“I hate you,” he whispers as he buries his face in their hair and clings to them tightly like he's trying to prevent them from falling away even though they've already fallen in a past time he can't remember.

“I know.” they sigh, staring directly into the sun as it falls below the horizon, attempting to ignore the swarms of their own feelings buzzing around inside of them.

**Author's Note:**

> This is super not how you’re supposed to end the traditional 5+1 so sorry about that, but I wanted to do a simple prompt to work out some writers block so eyyy.


End file.
